It's all going down
by kammy147
Summary: As high school is coming to an end, horrible events begin to happen in South Park and no one can escape the horror. Rated M for language and bloody scenes. Pairings: Style, Bunny, Creek.
1. Prologue

It's all going down.

No more exciting adventures and crazy shit.

All the excitement stopped when we all started high school; well, not entirely, since high school was another kind of excitement itself (in a way).

More or less you could call it drama rather than excitement.

Everyone has settled down. It is because we all knew after high school, it's for real; some of us might join the work force directly, some of us might head straight to college. We were not kids anymore.

(It's all going down.)

Freshman year, most of us still went on with the parties and shit. A few of us settled down and started to study real hard, like Kyle and Butters. No one could get by by being "smart" anymore; you had to be both smart _and _hard-working. Eventually, kids who used to be "smart" fell behind and some of them even gave up entirely, like Craig, who was one of our school's major drug dealers.

When you think of high school while you were in middle school, you always think the high schoolers are super cool. The fact is: they aren't. Everyone more or less was the same. No one changed; except their habits.

(No one ever changed.)

I was the self-proclaimed observer. I observe. People told me lots of things because they thought I was trustworthy. True, I never tell. Nor did I ever give them any of my opinion; I just listened. They all like to confess to me because I listened well. Therefore, I was privy to almost everyone's secrets (and their sins).

So here we all were, in the middle of this mess.

What mess?

Indeed, what mess? I used to ask myself sometimes.

South Park has been the hick town it has been since the first redneck family moved in. Even though good ol' Colorado herself was well above the Mason Dixon line, here in South Park the culture has always been as Southern as it could get.

The older generation never liked the "hippies", in fact, some of the less open minded younger generation felt the same way too. However, they all coexisted; it never occurred to anyone that someone would get crazy enough about it to actually do something.

The horror thus began.


	2. The News

It was just a normal afternoon, lunch time had just begun and the lines were longer than the Great Wall of China.

It was Friday, the day the old gang agreed to eat lunch together. It's because everyone had their own group now, Stan was with the football players, Kyle and Butters with the academic nerds, Craig of course was with the crackheads and smokers, Cartman was with the racists, and as for me, I always sat at the poor kids' table with Tweek (since Craig didn't want him anywhere near the crackheads, so he asked me to take care of Tweek), right between the outcasts and the emo kids. But Friday's always the old group's hang out day. We all loved Friday, not just because it's fish sticks Friday, it's because we all felt right around each other, no matter how much Stan and Craig hated each others' guts and how intolerable were Cartman and Kyle of each other, we always felt right when we were all together. Even so, we didn't hang out every day because it's just a social rule we all had to follow. It's high school.

"Dude, did you guys watch the news last night?" Cartman sat down with his tray full of greasy cafeteria food. He's always the first in lunch line for some reason.

"No, not really, we all had to study for that history test, remember?" Stan said.

"Not for me," Craig was smart enough to get by without studying, but he never did his work, and that's why he's never up there with the nerds.

"What was on the news anyways, Cartman?" Kyle asked. I could tell he didn't really want to know, Kyle just didn't want Stan to argue with Craig. If they did fight, it would have been quite a performance. But it was just my imagination, Stan wasn't that aggressive.

While I was distracted by the idea of Stan fighting Craig, Cartman and Kyle were arguing. Cartman said something along the line of "Bet you'd like to know you faggy Jew" and that made Kyle mad. And then there was the noise of them cursing each other out.

"C'mon guys, it's Friday, don't be mad at each other now…" Butters as always, was the peace maker.

Actually, we've all been talking about it all day – the news – we all knew what was on the news last night. I guess that's why everyone was so uneasy and nervous that day.

(Because of what was on the news, the terrifying news.)

A boy named Victor Jones was found dead in the dumpster next to Raisins by one of the girls who worked there. The girl must have gone crazy because the guy's penis was missing. Rumor has that the body had scratches and wounds all over it, as if he was tortured to death. In his pants' left pocket was a note, believed to be written by the lunatic murderer, which says "I AM A FAG, THAT'S WHY I AM GOING TO HELL." Apparently, this psychopath wanted to kill all homos.

I was scared, we all were, because we were all gay; Kyle with Stan, Craig with Tweek , and Butters with me. Cartman? I wasn't sure. But at least we were all in the closet.

"You fags are in big trouble" Somewhere along the line I could hear fear in Cartman's tone.

"Shut up fatass."

No one wanted to talk about it, none of us did, except maybe Cartman. It was just way too disturbing.


	3. The First Encounter

"You think the police will catch the killer soon, Kenny?" Butters asked nervously for the third time with his stack of textbooks in front of his chest. Sometimes I do feel jealous of his textbooks, but it's just a silly thought.

"No, I don't know, Butters." I grabbed his books and throw them inside my locker along with my threadbare backpack, which used to belong to my brother when he went to high school.

"Gosh, I am really scared."

"Just be careful, OK? Butters, I don't want anything to happen to any of us, especially you."

"Really Kenny?" I never talked to him like this before, he seemed delighted with my concern. I simply nodded.

I knew Butters loved me, but I never say anything about it, we were just kind of, well, together. It's not in my personality to act like a pair of flaming faggots with my boyfriend. I am gay, but I wasn't a gay rights advocate like Big Gay Al and Garrison used to be (After some homophobes painted threats outside Big Gay Al's house, he decided to leave South Park and moved to Denver. As for Garrison, he's still one of the teachers in South Park Elementary; we still go back and visit him sometimes). After all, in a hick town like this, you really wouldn't want to attract attention like that.

The hall was starting to clear as the deafening bell rang (man, I hated that bell, it's always freaking loud, especially in the hall, because all the speakers were in the hall). Me and Butters had filler for 4th period, we always hanged out at this time of the day. (I knew he just chose to have the filler because he wanted to spend time with me, after all, fillers hurt his GPA). When the last kid in the hall way ran past us like a robber chased by cops, I pushed Butters aside and pinned him into a corner. I made sure no one was watching, this was an obscure spot in the school anyway – the make out hallway, that was what we used to call it.

Butters started to blush. As innocent as he was, he knew what was coming. I stared down at him (he was half a foot shorter than me), but he turned his head down, looking at his pair of baby blue converse Stan and Kyle got him last Christmas. If he wasn't pinned by me like this, he would have started playing with his thumbs, too. Even though I couldn't see his face, I knew he was biting his lower lip.

"Look at me." I calmly pleaded.

"I-I can't…" His ears turned from pink to red. I lower my lips to brush at the spot right below his jaw and his right ear.

He was nervous and I didn't want to push it. I suddenly felt bad for pinning him into the corner like this. I knew he never liked to be pressured. So I gently pulled him out of the corner and into my embrace. He was a little shaky, did I scared him?

I put his head under my chin and smelled his hair; I didn't recognize what sort of scent it was, but it just smelled like Butters. I took hold of both of his trembling hands and put them over my shoulders; so now we were in a position as if we were slow dancing. My hands on his waist gently pushed him closer.

I slowly spun around so now I was the one in the corner. Butters inhaled deeply and exhaled in a relief, I could feel the warm of his breath on my chest.

"I want to kiss you, but if you don't feel like it, I won't make you." I whispered, his hair was tickling my throat.

"I want to! I-I mean… no!" He was now on his feet, no longer leaning on me.

"It's OK Butters" He was having a nervous breakdown and I thought it was cute.

"No… I mean yes…I mean, ugh! Kyle taught me to say no if you ever asked, he said I shouldn't give in too easily… he said I shouldn't always be chasing after you, I should play hard to get…"

I was chuckling at the idea of Kyle lecturing Butters over things like that, since Kyle himself totally gave it all to Stan.

"Would you kiss me then?" I asked "if you don't want me to kiss you."

"Yeah… but I want-I want you to kiss me…" his voice faded away, then came back "because I don't know how to…" He looked down again, as if ashamed of the fact that he's a twelve grade virgin who had never even kissed before.

I smiled, then lowered my lips onto his; his lips were trembling, but I soon put it to a stop by firmly locking our lips together. Butters's lips were soft and moist as I thought. The kiss lasted for a few seconds, and when we parted our lips Butter was already short of breathe.

It was a sunny day, I looked outside the window and saw the lawn. There was even some grass showing under the snow, guess it was because it's still late August.

Butters closed his eyes and leaned on me. Today was just so perfect, even though it was a Monday, it felt like a freaking Friday.

This thought soon disappeared in my mind when I saw a men standing outside the school behind the big pine tree. He was looking, no scratch that, _glaring_ at us. I was startled, then my heart sank; somehow this man's gave out an aura that terrified me – me, Kenny McCormick! The second most hardcore kid in South Park High right after Craig Tucker! I was frozen for a second or two, but then I came back to my senses and quickly squatted down, dragging Butters along with me, so that we were out of sight from anything out of the window.

"What happened, Kenny?" Butters asked, completely clueless.

"There's a weirdo staring at us outside the window, don't look." Somehow I managed to explain in my normal voice.

"But… why?" Yes indeed, why?

"I think he might be the killer." Then I clamped my hand on Butters mouth before he could scream. He mumbled, then I told him not to scream and released my hand from his mouth.

"We need to get the hell out of here." I was praying to God that the man wasn't walking toward us or anything.

Butters nodded with terrified eyes. I took out my cell phone and used it as a mirror to reflect what was outside the window, but it didn't work, it wasn't at the right angle and the sun was too bright, which only made a huge flare on my screen.

"Dammit!" I cursed under my breath.

I was forced to look outside, but Butters wrapped his hands on my left arm and pulled me down.

"Don't." his eyes pleaded.

"It's OK Butters," I answered him and took a quick glace outside the window.

To my surprise, no one was there. Nothing. No one was behind the tree or anything, only the clear blue sky and pine trees covered with snow.

No one.

"What is it Kenny?" came Butters small voice.

"No one's outside." Now I began to think, was it all just my imagination or was there really a man standing out there glaring at us? Years later I would still wake up in the middle of night with this same scene in my dream, it would all seem so distant then… But imagination or not, the fear was real. Those eyes… even though he was far away, those eyes looked as if they belonged to a beast.

The bell that dismissed 4th period rang. It was the first time in three years I actually liked the sound of that bell. Saved by the bell, they say. I couldn't help but chuckled a little.

The noise of doors opening and banging closed, chicks chatting and giggling, guys cheering and the squeaky noise made by a running kid's sneakers on the waxed floor broke the silence immediately.

"Kenny?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah."

"You sure? Yuh-You look kinda pale…" I felt like a retard acting all scared in front of Butters.

"Yeah I am OK, you need to go to 5th."

"Ye-Yeah, but I don't want to leave you."

"I will be OK, you _have _to go to class. I am going to lunch."

"O-OK."

"C'mon, we'll go get your textbooks."

-x-x-x-

**Please let me know how this is and you are welcomed to tell me any mistakes, because English is not my first language and I always make stupid mistakes...**

**there will be some Style coming soon! w**


	4. Yes, we've all seen it Kenny

I was being extra cautious this week after Monday's event during 4th period. I drove Butters home every day and made sure he stepped into his house without a scratch before I drive off. His parents were being extremely paranoid about letting their teenage son drive, and therefore, Butters still didn't have a driver license. Butters usually rode the bus when he had after school tutorials and rode with me when he didn't. However, this week I was too nervous to let him ride the bus alone, so I waited till he finished his tutorials and drove him home every day.

Butters didn't seem to mind at all, in fact, he was happy about it. He seemed to think that after the kiss, I finally started acting like a "boyfriend".

Which was ironic, because that's the exact opposite I wanted to do. I told you before, in this hick town, you never want to act like flaming faggots.

While I was waiting for Butters, I went to stand under the giant oak tree to hang out with the so called bad kids. Craig was there with Tweek pulling at his sleeves. As I walked toward them, I heard the faint sound of Tweek pleading for Craig to stop smoking and to go home with him.

"What's up Kenny." Craig said, tilting his head upward with smoke coming out from his mouth.

"Hey."

"Want one?" he offered his cigarettes.

"Nah, you know I am not a smoker."

"Well, might as well get hooked up to it now." He half chuckled with the cigarette between his teeth.

"No thanks. Did you see anything weird lately?" Craig suddenly turned alarmed.

"d' you mean?"

"Nothing, just you know, anything or anyone weird following you or looking at you or something?"

After a moment or two, Craig replied,

"No." Something said he was lying.

"Alright, just checkin'."

"Why don't you tell Kenny? We can trust him…" Tweek said.

"Shut up, Tweek, there's nothing to tell."

"But…"

"I said shut your pipe hole!" Craig usually wasn't like that to Tweek, he's mean alright, but he's only mean to everyone else, never Tweek. Something was wrong.

"Well, Craig, to be honest, I saw something too." I interrupted, not wanting to see Craig to treat Tweek that way.

"I dunno what the hell you are talking about McCormick." Calling me by my last name, not a friendly sign.

"OK, well, I gotta go now, Butters probably finished."

"See ya." I added, but Craig went on smoking and didn't say a thing, Tweek just waved at me as I walked toward the school's front entrance.

After I drove Butters home that day, I drove to Stan's house. Today's Friday, I knew Stan and Kyle "hang out" at Stan's house every Friday because Mr. and Mrs. Marsh always went out for dinner on Fridays and left their 18 years old son to do whatever he wanted with his "best friend".

It was 5:44, I just hoped that when I walked in, they weren't making out already.

"Oh, 's up Ken. C'mon in, we were just playing Modern Warfare 2." Stan opened the door.

"That's cool, d' you get the stimulus package?" I had been saving money for that.

"Yeah, wanna join?" He offered me his black controller.

"Nah, actually I want to talk to you guys about something."

"More important than Modern Warfare 2?" Stan's eyebrow raised in a surprised look. Yes, I was a Modern Warefare addict.

"Yeah." I gave him to dead serious look in return.

Suddenly, a cloud flowed by and covered the sun, I was sure my azure blue eyes turned in a shade of dark indigo, because Stan's mauve ones did.

"Hey Kenny." Kyle said from the stair wells, breaking the silence between me and Stan.

"Hey Kyle."

"Kenny says he wants to talk to us about something." I almost wanted to say: quit acting Stan, I know you know what _something_ is.

"Let's go upstairs guys," I said.

"Is it bad?" Kyle asked as we were climbing up the stairs.

"Yeah, it's pretty bad." We entered Stan's room and sat down on the carpeted floor.

"OK, what is it Kenny?" Kyle asked.

"Y'all remember last Thursday's news about that kid Victor Jones?"

"Yeah," Kyle replied and Stan nodded. The atmosphere was getting more intense.

"I think someone is out there and I think I saw him on Monday."

"What do you mean you saw him?" Stan asked.

"To be exact, he _saw _us."

"Us? Were you with Butters?" Kyle asked, Butters must have told him about the kiss already.

"Yeah, did Butters tell you about the weirdo that was looking at us?"

"Yes, but he said he didn't see the man…"

"He didn't, but _I_ did."

There was another pause.

"Actually… I saw a weird guy staring at me after football practice yesterday too." Stan confessed.

"So he's marked you too."

"You guys are making me nervous! How do you know he's the killer?" Kyle almost yelled, he was freaking out, even though he was trying to hide it. Stan put his hand on Kyle's and entwined their fingers.

"Calm down Kyle, we are just theorizing."

While Stan and Kyle were talking, the Channel 5 News got my attention:

"Another dead body was found in a dumpster next to KFC. The victim was identified to be 18-year-old Ricky Wilson. He was reported to be missing by his family two weeks before. His penis is also missing and a note was found in his pocket which says 'I am a faggot, therefore, I am going to Hell' in capital block letters…"

"Oh my God…"

"And you guys want me to calm down."

"What do we do now Ken?"

"I dunno…" How the hell am I suppose to know?

The news anchor continued:

"The police still have no suspects and refused to share further information about this serial murder case."

"Those idiots have nothing to share, they are just clueless."

"Stan, maybe we should tell the police you and Kenny saw a suspicious man watching you guys, then maybe they will send protection for us!"

"Then we are out of the closet; no Kyle, we can't risk to tell the world. Besides, you know as well as Stan and I do that those cops are all homophobes and they are just a whole bunch of fatasses who eat donuts all day, every day."

"Then what do we do?" Kyle asked hopelessly.

After an awkward silence that seemed to have lasted years if not forever, Stan said,

"Man, I can't wait to get out of this hick town."

We couldn't agree more.


	5. Logic Reasoning

After the three best friends agreed that they need to find Craig and Tweek over the weekend and talk about this terrifying event, Kenny headed home in his dusty, muddy Ford pick-up truck that was covered in bird poop, and Stan and Kyle was again left alone in the room. Stan took a glance at the psychologist who was discussing the logic behind the killer's motive with the news anchor:

"So it is clear that the killer intends to wipe out South Park's homosexual population, is it not Dr. Piven?"

"It appears to be very likely so." _That guy looks like another idiot expert who doesn't know what the hell he was talking about, just like many other experts we've met before._ Stan thought.

"Is there any reason, or what could be his or her motive?"

"Well, so far he had only been killing young boys and it could be that the killer think himself or herself to be carrying out God's work because he or she did hint so in the note found along with the victim's body and…"

_God's work?_

Stan decided he didn't want to hear anymore of this crap, so he turned off the TV and sat down on his bed next to Kyle.

Kyle was spread out on the bed, looking tired and disconcerted. Stan knew Kyle was the smartest kid in school, no doubt about that, but at real life situations like this, Kyle's mind could never work out the problem logically. Well, maybe it's because most real life situations aren't logical anyways.

Stan, like Kyle, was frightened by these recent events, they all were; but Stan knew he had to be brave now.

Stan hovered over Kyle and kissed his forehead. He couldn't imagine what life would be like for him if Kyle was taken away – his one best, bestest friend, his dearest lover… Stan would never allow that to happen, even if it means he had to give up his own life –

"Stan," Kyle called out softly, pulling him down for an embrace.

Stan hugged Kyle tightly, he couldn't lose him, he mustn't! Stan was hugging Kyle so hard that Kyle almost couldn't breathe, after all, Stan was the best quarterback in South Park High's history.

Stan felt wetness on his neck, for a moment, he thought he had hurt Kyle, but then Kyle started,

"Stan, I am so scared, I know I sound like a chicken, but I really am!" The sentence was echoed in Stan's ears with fear, real terror… Stan sat up, pulling Kyle up with him, one hand holding Kyle's hand and the other caressing Kyle's cheek.

"We all are, there's nothing to be ashamed of. Kenny was scared too, I saw that look in his eyes; I've never seen him like that before. We just need to calm down now and think of what needs to be done next."

Kyle almost never cried, Stan had only seen Kyle cried like this once before, which was whenever Kyle got hemorrhoid and Cartman got one million dollars, causing Kyle to lose faith in God. They wre only nine years old back then, and Stan had the urge to go up to Kyle to hug him and kiss him on the eye to stop the tears from falling. He couldn't do it back them, but he's going to do it now; for seeing Kyle crying was heartbreaking.

But as soon as Stan had planted the kiss, Kyle had stopped crying. Kyle was strong, he would panic, but he could recover fast. Kyle took a deep breath, letting the oxygen to refresh his brain cells. Stan's right, he needed to start thinking now, panic was no use.

"There's one question I've been wanting to ask," Kyle finally said in his normal voice, the voice of reason.

"If that guy you and Kenny saw is indeed the killer, how did he find out that we are gay? It's not like we told everyone in town or anything."

"That's true, we never act out in public neither."

"Do you remember what he looked like?" Stan almost shuddered at the idea of thinking of that man again, those eyes… the eyes of a predator…

"He looked really shady and he was kinda far away, but I could rell he was wearing a trucker hat, it was a black trucker hat."

"That's not a very distinctive trait in South Park." True, almost everyone owns a trucker hat in South Park.

"That's true…" Stan let out a sigh.

"It's OK Stan, when we meet the guys tomorrow, we will come up with something."

"I hope so."

"You hungry? Let's order some pizza, 'cause I am starving." Kyle got up to get the phone and the menu.

Stan felt a little relieved that Kyle was being optimistic at least, but he still felt like a giant stone was constantly exerting an invisible force on his chest, making him hard to breathe.

* * *

**We will go on to some Tweek and Craig next chapter, please let me know how I am doing so far! :)**


	6. Tweek VS Craig

_ Why do I have to care about him so much? _Tweek thought. _Craig Tucker is a drug dealer, though he's not addicted to the stuff himself, he's hopeless. One of these days he might as well just get busted and get locked up to jail… Why do I have to care about him so much? – _

"I'm sorry Tweek." Craig muttered after a long silence in the car during which Tweek was questioning himself.

"What?" Tweek jumped, surprised.

"I said, I'm sorry." Craig repeated, embarrassed, Craig Tucker never apologize, because Craig Tucker never took any shit from nobody.

_You better be. _Tweek thought, but only said "For what?" in a bit of a harsh tone. Tweek might seem weak to everyone else at school, but he knew how to discipline his boyfriend alright, who happened to be the toughest guy at school, so that automatically made Tweek the most powerful kid at school, well, in a way. Tweek turned his head away from Craig and smirked at the idea.

"For yelling at you after school today." Craig muttered, turning his left light on and preparing to make a turn.

_That's right Craig, you shouldn't have, you never yell at me, and now I am going to give you some hell to make you remember. _Tweek remained silent. _Yep, the silent treatment._

Craig loved Tweek because Tweek truly cared about him. Craig's parents never gave a shit about Craig and whenever teachers at school informed them Craig had caused trouble in school, they'd only flipped the teacher off and then flipped each other off when they get home. Then Craig would flip them off and get the hell out of the house or back to his room. After Craig's grandma died, Tweek remained as the only person who cared about Craig in this world. But Craig also loved Tweek for another reason. Tweek was unlike all the other girls he had gone out with before. Girls are always demanding you to respect them in public, but Tweek was different; he would always let Craig be the man in front of their friends and act like the lovely, obedient little boyfriend he ought to be. But, when no one was watching, that's another story.

"So, do you forgive me?" Craig asked, still looking forward.

_Silent Treatment. _Tweek sang in his head.

"Tweek?"

"Is this how you ask for forgiveness? Huh? You aren't even_ looking_ at me!"

"Tweek, I am driving!"

"Don't you talk back to me like this Craig Tucker. I told you to stop smoking after you had already had 3, but you didn't listen. Hell, you sonova bitch even yelled at me! I don't want you to smoke because I don't want you to die young of cancer, and I don't want to taste fucking cigarettes in your mouth when we kiss! I worry about you every day and I know I don't even have to! But I just can't stop! I can't! I asked myself why do I have to care about this mother fucker so much? Why? He's a drug dealer and he's hopeless, he's going to jail one day and I deserve s much better boyfriend than this retard. But I love you and I can't stop myself from loving you! Then I told myself, well, that's great Tweek, you just love the bad boys don't you? That's you own fucking fault Tweek! You own fuc – "

Craig pulled over the car in his garage and kissed Tweek firmly on his lips. Tweek was caught off guard, but after a second or two, he pushed Craig away and turned away from him, his arms folded across his chest.

"C'mon baby, I am sorry." Craig adopted the begging tone that worked ninety percent of the time.

"Don't you 'C'mon baby' me! And yeah, you better be."

"I promise I will never yell at you again."

"How do I know you will not forget that?"

"Er…"

"If you ever yell at me again, you have to stop smoking, and if you don't, I will never let you touch me _ever_ again."

"That's a bit harsh baby, don't you think?"

_Silent Treatment._

"OK. Alright, you win, I lose. Now can I have a kiss please?"

"OK, just one." Tweek relaxed and leaned toward Craig. "And no tongues." He added before he closed in for a little peak.

"Aw, c'mon, that was nothing!"

"What was that?" Tweek glared, and Craig realized he better shut the hell up if he wanted anything from Tweek tonight.

_Tweek 1, Craig 0._

_

* * *

_

**How was that? I thought this chapter will be like a comic relief, because I don't want the whole story to be all emo and scary… **


	7. False Alarm

_Ding dong_

"I will go get the door." Kyle stood up and started rushing downstairs. Stan looked outside his window and saw the pizza guy's truck waiting outside.

_Wait._

_A truck?_

_The pizza guy always rode a motorcycle, not a truck. Something seems out of place here._

_Oh shit._

"Kyle!" Stan ran downstairs as fast as he could. Kyle didn't respond to his call. Something's wrong. Stan's heart sank. The stairwell seemed longer than usual. No! No! No! Not Kyle! NO!

"And, here's your change." Joe the pizza guy said.

"Thank you." Kyle replied.

"Thank you!" Joe than turned around and left.

"Did you call my name?" Kyle turned around with the pizza box and two other aluminum boxes in his hands. Stan almost laughed at himself for being so hysterical a while ago.

"What's wrong?" Kyle walked toward the kitchen counter and put down their dinner.

"Nothing." Stan put his arms around Kyle and hugged him tight, letting out a sigh of relief.

"Dude, I just went downstairs to get the pizza for two minutes, did you miss me that much?"

"No, I thought it was the killer."

"Calm down Stan, it was just Joe." Kyle chuckled slightly.

"I saw he had a truck and he usually rode the motorcycle. I thought he was going to kidnap you!" Stan pulled away and stared into Kyle's eyes.

"I noticed that too, he told me it's just a new thing to keep the food warmer or something."

"I don't care Kyle, but from now on, I am not letting you out of my sight."

"You need to chill out."

"I will when this madness is over." (If it's ever gonna be.)

"Alright, but right now, I am starving."

"Sorry."

That night, Stan couldn't fall asleep even though he was exhausted after football practice. He stayed up all night thinking during his insomnia. Kyle kissed him good night and fell asleep right beside him. Stan stared at Kyle's peaceful face under the cold moonbeam. He couldn't help but wonder what their future would be. Sure they will both go to college in Denver, but what next? Are they going to come back and live in this hick town after that? No, Kyle wouldn't want to, we both hate this place. Sure childhood friends and memories and everything are here. We love South Park, just not the people who live here. Actually, people had been moving out, no one really wanted to come back here. Kids who went to college never came back and their parents would move.

(It's something about South Park that drove people away from it. Something terrible… like a –)

South Park's population was getting old, people didn't want their kids to grow up here anymore, only the red neck ranchers and the poor families who couldn't afford to move stayed here. South Park would become a ghost town eventually. Stan hated to think like that, but it's true. Not'ing we can do 'bout it, not'ing. South Park was rotting, from inside out… decaying, dying… but it's trying to hang on to its dear life (trying to keep the candle from burning out… refilling the wax with the flesh and blood of its young residence). Stan shuddered at the thought, then the image of that man came back to haunt him again the moment he closed his eyes… then suddenly, Kyle's voice came through,

"Stan?" Kyle sat up, rubbing his sleepy eye.

"Sorry, did I wake you up?"

"No, it's just, you are sweating a lot, and you are cold."

"Oh."

"Are you OK?" Kyle placed another kiss on Stan's cheek and felt Stan's forehead with his palm.

"Sorry Kyle, if I am keeping you awake, I'll sleep on the floor."

"No! Stan, just tell me what's wrong." Concerned.

"It's just, I've been thinking,"

Kyle listened intently.

"Are we going to stay together?"

"Yeah, what makes you say that?" puzzled, but Kyle still answered as a matter-of-factly.

"Nothing, it's just… I was thinking what we will become in the future."

"You are thinking too hard Stan, look, I'll go get you a glass of milk and then you should be able to fall asleep." Kyle said with a yawn in the middle of his sentence.

"You know what, it's fine Kyle, I'll just lay down here and count sheep."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am sure, go back to sleep." Stan pulled the blankets over Kyle and brushed his red curl aside.

"Alright," Another yawn.

"Love you, Kyle."

"I love you, too."

Kyle soon fell asleep again soundly, he must be really tired from waking up early and working real late every night, trying to keep up with his classes. Stan still couldn't fall asleep, he spent all night thinking about what would happen in the future. When he's sick of thinking of the future, he thought of the past. Yes, their crazy childhood… Stan thought of South Park… the place they all grew up with, the place they so adored and came to hate when the ugly truth dawned on them as they grew older, their eyes cleared. Everything seemed so sweet and innocent when you were little… Maybe it's because the eyes of a child are the most unjudging of all. Or perhaps their eyes didn't clear at all, they just got clouded with opinion and bias… even Kenny, the person who never judged, was no exception… South Park didn't change, it's just us who had changed, we've outgrown it.

Then it dawned on Stan that what had been preying on them wasn't the man in the black trucker hat, it was South Park itself!

The thought gave Stan a chill, as if South Park itself had realized Stan's epiphany and was ready to strike him down, swallow him and punish him for treason. (Yes, treason 'cause ya hadn't be a good ol' South Park citizen you oughta be, Stanley).

Stan suddenly felt wearied, even under all these surreal and invisible threats and fear. His legs begun to feel sored, as if he had been running away from the monster that was South Park itself…

Suddenly, something moved and Stan felt a hand on his stomach, but it was only Kyle. _Right, it's no time for me to shit my own pants, I've Kyle to look after. _Stan let out a sigh again and stared at the ceiling, then rolled his head to the left to look at his digital alarm clock, the glowing scarlet numbers which read 2:06 stared right back at him like the bloodshot eyes of a monster.

(It's just my imagination. _Right, imagination_.)

_Jesus Christ, this is going to be a long night._

_And, damn right I am going to count sheep._

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**Hope you guys notice I've been trying really hard to make eye a symbolism in this fic. FAIL! And Kyle serves as the source of hope for Stan is another thing I am trying to imply in this chapter. Sorry if the whole "South Park is alive like a freaking monster" metaphor freaked anyone out, yes, blame me for reading too much Stephen Kings'. If you had ever read IT by Stephen King, the gay dude mentioned something about the clown is Derry itself in the early chapters and I kinda got my inspiration from that. And yeah, if anyone is bored to death during Summer, you should check out IT, it's an amazing novel. Don't read it at night though. I can tell you about that.**


	8. Cartman's Poker Face

**Warning: This chapter might be offensive to some people. Also, any of the opinion expressed by the characters does not necessarily reflect my opinion on the same subject. If you are uncomfortable reading it, please hit the go back button. I ask this nicely of my readers and no hard feelings.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own South Park. (Sorry, forgot to do it in the early chapters, I knew something was missing…lol)**

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I came home last night after picking up some groceries for my mom. Didn't I have a job to work every day after school since my family was so fucking broke you ask? Hell no, I didn't. Damn right, there's something called financial aid and social security from the government of the sweet United fucking States of America. This is America, not Africa or some poor ass third world country, we don't starve here. Why? Because your parents paid for my parents. Unfair you say? The way I see it, Christian country man, believe it or not, America was founded on Christian principles. Didn't Jesus said love thy neighbors as thyself? Fucking hypocrites.

That was exactly what I felt like telling Cartman in his face when his drunken ass called me two in the morning and bitched to me about his hatred for poor, lazy people who were dragging down the whold economy of the US and causing China to surpass us to be the next superpower of the world.

"Hey fatass, I'm poor, but I am not lazy, I work my butt off trying to go to college."

"Right Ken, and who's payin' for you to go to college?" He slurred back.

"Look, Cartman, I don't want to argue, where the hell are you anyways?" Probably at the bar, judging from the background noise.

"The –(hiccup)– bar."

"Are you going to _drive_ yourself home?" Really, he's still a friend, I don't want him to die.

"No retard, I called you fuh that."

"Right, and you fucking insulted me for ten fucking minutes."

"Twelve actually, if you will look at your phone."

"Sure smartass. Stay where you are, I'll be there in ten."

I hung up. Seriously, if you ask me why I was so tolerant with Cartman, there's really no reason why. It's just because it's Cartman. Cartman was Cartman, that's just the way he was, I got used to it.

Fine, my true opinion is: Cartman was one pathetic dude who didn't have any friends except himself. But he was such an asshole that he didn't even want to befriend himself. The only friends he'd got was us, the gang, me and butters being the closer ones he had. Cartman told lots of shit about himself to me when he's drunk. He didn't spilled out his feelings nor pour out his heart, but there's always this silent, mutual understanding that made me understood his reserved words. He's the loneliest persn I'd known. Being friends with him was like charity to me, and the only kind I could afford. Sure he pissed me off from time to time, but I guess it was the way of him saying – "look dude, I know you are my best bud, and you won't mind whatever the hell I say, and I love you for that."

The bar wasn't far away from my house, it was at the outskirt of the bad side of town. I came out of my car and it was freezing. I didn't even turn the heater on because, God, do you know how much gas it costs? I walked into the bar and the warmth along with the smell of perfume, cigarettes, and a whole bunch of God knew what smell hit my face. I spotted Cartman immediately. Big fat Cartman with his drunken face on the counter.

"Cartman! " I shouted across the room.

"Dude, you don't have to yell." He slowly rised up and stumbled as he stood up. I put his arm over my shoulder, his dead weight forcing me to bend down.

"Dude, don't throw up in my car."

I half walked, half carried Cartman to my car, opened the door and dumped him in the back, so he could kind of lie down, then I rushed back to the front and got in my car.

"Turn on the fucking heater man, I'm freezing my ass off!" Cartman yelled from the back.

"No, it's too expensive."

Cartman then mumbled something along the line of "fucking poor people", then sat up and sniffed, wiping his nose with his old yellow gloves that Butters and I got him on his 15th birthday, because his old ones were too small.

"Well, sorry dude, gas money's really – "

"I need to tell you something about that man."

"What man?"

"The killer."

I remained silent, because I wasn't sure if I heard that right.

"Ken, start driving, someone might be watching."

I obliged without saying anything.

"Alright Kenneh, I need to go through this fast."

"Just get on with it already!" I snapped impatiently.

"OK! OK! I think the killer was a member of NAMBLA."

"What?" That didn't make sense at all, if the killer was a homophobe, how could he be a past member of NAMBLA?

"I am not sure though, the guy at the bar told me his name was Bob Carlson, but it could be an alias."

That name didn't ring a bell at all.

"How did you find out about this?" Not that I didn't trust Cartman, I just didn't know how he'd have any source to get this sort of information.

"I am the 'Coon, don't you remember Ken?" He smirked.

"Shut up, seriously."

"I'd rather prefer you not to ask."

"Oh my God, really? Cartman?" Cartman had an addiction to gambling, Stan, Kyle and I once talked him out of it. I still remembered that one time he almost got killed because he owed a dude one grand. But I guess he was in it again.

"I needed some cash, plus, I got a way better poker face than Lady Gaga." He joked bitterly.

"Whatever man, I am not judging you."

"Anyway, that dude told me he was friend with that guy before he quitted NAMBLA. He said that guy became all weird after his son died, and he started saying all kinds of strange things about the gays are destroying society."

"Sounds fishy."

"Yep, and that's exactly why I'm telling you this."

"But it still doesn't make sense."

"Nothing about psychos makes sense." Cartman said in his phony professional tone as if he was an experienced psychiatrist.

"Well, thanks for telling me this anyways."

"Do you plan to take this into your own hands?"

"No Cartman, this is no game, we ain't playing detectives, this is for real, people'll get killed."

"Just sayin', I mean, the cops sure aren't doing anything about it."

"Why do you care anyways?"

"'Cause you guys are the only thing I've got. (The only thing I will still have even if I lose everything else in poker.)"

There was a pause. Eric Cartman only showed his emotion twice in his life, and this was one of them. I took a glance at the reflection of his solemn face through the rare mirror, and I knew nothing needed to be said.

We arrived at Cartman's house and before he opened the door and got out, I said,

"Thanks Cartman."

He didn't say anything and got off my car. I saw him entered his house and then I drove off in the darkness.

I knew Cartman didn't even have to play poker at the bar, he had plenty of money right now, heck, he always had, when was the last time Mrs. Cartman denied her precious little poopsikin anything? Sniffing around at the bar, asking questions one shouldn't be asking wouldn't do Cartman any good… he was trying to help. He might not admit it, but I knew he was.

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**I know the beginning is kinda offensive, maybe it's just part of me trying to make you angry so that you will review…XD **

**Oh yeah, totally love Cartman's version of Poker Face. Trey Parker is awesome.**

**Please tell me how do you guys like this Cartman **** I kinda feel like he's OC-ish. - ^ -**


	9. Endless Night

On my way home, I kept thinking about what Cartman had told me, nothing was coming together. I seriously didn't want to bother, but Cartman's voice kept echoing in my head – "It involves you guys." I thought maybe we would just ignore the whole thing and wait till it goes away, because I was afraid knowing more would only plunge us into deeper, unknown danger, but –

"What the fuc-"

There was suddenly a man wearing a cowboy hat standing right in front of my car, but it was too late for me to stop, it was like he popped up from nowhere. I ran right through him, no bumps, no crash, nothing. I was shocked; I didn't know how to react. Did I kill someone?

I stopped my car on the road side, then ran back to that spot a few yards away. My heart pounding – for fear of getting caught and being thrown into jail… but it didn't last long, because no one was there, not a single soul… as if, as if he disappeared, evaporated like magic… Maybe it was just my imagination, I thought. I'd been too nervous about this whole serial killer thing, I guess.

"I need some sleep." I mumbled to myself.

(Yes, some sleep would do.)

What the hell is going on in this town?

In my unknown fear, I suddenly felt an urge to see Butters. I felt like this whole town is unsafe for any of us. I needed to see that Butters was alright. It was the first time in my life that I actually missed Butters that badly… I needed to feel him, to know he's actually there, not some mirage like the man I just saw…

I looked at the digital clock of my car, it's 2:58, then I looked at the rare mirror, in which I saw the same man I just theoretically ran over. He _smirked_, looked back at me, his mouth moved as he gave a tip to his worn out hat. Somehow I imagined he was saying "howdy neighbor?" or something of that sort. My heart almost froze, it wasn't because I didn't turn my damn heater on, it was the fear that turned my blood cold; colder than the snow on the ground. I blinked in disbelief, and the man was gone again, I didn't believe in ghost, but at that moment, I did.

_I need to see Butters, I need to see Butters._ was what my mind was telling my petrified body to do. So I drove on. I was scared… the roads were dark, and there were only a few cars on the road, each time a car passed by I had a feeling that a pair of eyes inside the other car was watching me… I had this paranoia that I was being hunted like a prey…

It took what felt like forever for me to get to Butters's house, even though it was only a 10 minutes drive. I picked up my phone and called Butters.

"Ah-ah Hello?"

"Butters, can you open the door for me?"

"Kenny? What – ah-uh alright, I'll be right there."

There was no body on the streets, except me. The front door lamp flickered with the moths that were dancing around it. There was clicking noise as Butters opened the door for me.

"Kenny?"

"Butters!" I exclaimed as I stepped into the house and kissed Butters's forehead, holding him, making sure he was real.

"Kenny, you're cold, let's go to my room, I don't want to wake up my parents… I'll get grounded if they find you here." Butters then took my hand and led me upstairs into his room.

We sat down on his bed and he put a blanket over me as I took off my parka.

"Do you want some hot chocolate Kenny? It'll warm you up."

"No." I pulled him down and made him sit on my lap, hugging him like he's my teddy bear. "I don't need hot chocolate, I just need you to warm me up." I kissed his buttery hair, which never changed its color since elementary, while mine had turned into a darker blond. I inhaled deeply, Butters felt so soft, so warm… it was all I needed at that moment.

During my possessive embrace, I didn't notice Butters was growing anxious under my touch. When I finally loosened my grip and looked at him, his normally pink cheeks were glowing in bright red. The light from his bedside lamp was illuminating his face, perfectly showing off his delicate features. His meadow green eyes stared right back at me, shifting nervously; his lips slightly parted, showing part of his two front teeth, making him look like an innocent little bunny.

"You are beautiful Butters." I thought out loud.

He averted his gaze and grew even redder, but it didn't matter, I knew Butters was safe, my fear was gone. But it's getting really late and I didn't want to deprive Butters of his sleep, so I put him down and rise up to fetch my parka.

"Well Butters, I guess I should go now."

"Huh? Ng-no Kenny, don't go…"

I smiled bitterly. "But it's late Butters, and your parents would be mad if they find out."

"No, they will understand, I'll- I'll tell them you were in the cold and that you needed a place to spend the night at."

"Are you sure Butters?" I hated to make Butters lie for me, but I really wanted to stay, I didn't want to get on the scary road anymore.

"Yes Kenny! Please… I want to spend time with you." I sat down on his bed again.

"Aren't you sleepy?"

"A little…" I knew he was lying, he looked really tired.

"Do you think I haven't been paying attention to you? Is that why you want me to stay?"

"Mm… a little… I am happy you are here to see me now." He yawned.

"You should go to bed, I will sleep on the floor." I pulled the blankets over him as he looked at me with half lidded eyes.

"No, you should sleep on the bed, I'll sleep on the floor."

I kissed his forehead again, "You are very sweet Butters, but I don't want you sleeping on the floor."

"Well then we can both sleep on my bed, it'll be warmer." He smiled innocently.

"Aren't you scared I am going to touch you in inappropriate places?" I joked as I climbed under the covers with him. Then he murmured something as a reply, but I didn't hear him.

"I am sorry?"

"Maybe that's what I want." He repeated softly as he snuggled closer to me.

Wow! Butters can say that?

Somehow that made me felt really hot, but I was still kind of dumbfounded. When I finally came to my senses, Butters already fell asleep. I laughed at myself inwardly, making sure not to awake Butters. Butters was so clingy to me in the past, but now I was the one being clingy. We both needed each other.

All I remembered after that was I fell asleep with Butters in my arms, throwing all the unpleasant thoughts of what I'd seen and what Cartman had told me behind, letting my fatigue to swallow my mind.

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**Seriously, need some reviews here. Thanks Bambi4ever for all the constant reviews! But I really need something to make me keep writing. Need some confidence please… Anything, I don't care, just talk to me! DX**


	10. Good Enough

**Finally! Update=] **

**Sorry it took that long, I was not allowed to use the computer. This chapter is kinda long, but I think it was necessary to portray the Butters I want to portray. **

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The uneasy night didn't just go away when the sun rose up from behind the top of the ever-frosted Rockies. It was as if it faded into the gloomy morning of this Saturday. Tiny raindrops drizzled from the gray sky despite the fact that September was approaching.

Butters woke up hearing the sound of raindrops hitting his window. Kenny was still there, passed out like he had just returned from a triathlon. Butters rose up and started his mechanical ritual to start his day – brushing his teeth, combing his too-soft hair that never seem to ply, putting on his shirt and buttoning it up. Then he walked towards his window. Butters loved looking out of the window, especially when he's grounded. It's interesting what you can see out of the window sometimes… people never know that you are looking at them. He also loved raining; everything looks so blurry when it rains, just like a dream, but the sound keeps bringing you back to reality… Kenny's car was still in the driveway. The rain suddenly got heavier, washing away everything on the streets. Everything just flowed with the water, going slowly down the drain. Butters suddenly had the impression that the debris on the street were being _sucked_ in by the drain instead of flowing down by itself, as if some invisible, unknown force was hiding in the sewer, causing everything to plummet down there.

(It's all going down, down, _down_…)

As the years went by, Butters had learned that things never stay the same, they change as time inexorably marches on. People come and go, but people themselves stay the same. It's strange. Time never stops to let you think. Butters had woke up one morning, realizing he's not nine years old anymore, he was in 7th grade back then, school days just flew by and then summer would start and end… before he realized he was tall enough to reach the top rim of the door, he was already halfway through high school.

But what's even stranger was South Park, it never changed (just like a person). South Park stays the same, as if it was frozen by the Colorado snow, preserved by an invisible glass sphere just like one of those you could get in the gift shop at the exit of the town, only it didn't look as dreamy and fluffy.

Butters couldn't say he didn't like South Park, it's just… he wished he could move somewhere else, but South Park was the place where he was born and raised, he just didn't know where else would he go if he needed to leave South Park. Butters then recalled this conversation he had with his parents one day when they were watching the traveling channel.

"Your mother and I should move to Yuma after you graduate college, Butters." Stephen said in his usual fatherly tone.

"Why Dad? I rather like Denver."

"We hate the urban city life, it's so noisy and restless… we are getting old Butters, we want to be near the country." His father explained.

Butters hated the idea of his parents getting old. Sure, at the age of forty-seven, Stephen was as fiery as ever when he discovered that his son didn't do what he says; but as if a lion was getting old, he didn't have the strength to enforce his authority anymore, even though Butters still followed what he says out of respect. Butters knew his parents truly cared about him, it's just they have a _unique_ way of showing it. They always wanted Butters to be the best, so he didn't have to repeat the middle-class life they were so miserably stuck in… Sometimes Butters would become tired of their high expectations, what's wrong with just being like everyone else? He wouldn't mind a desk job… But, as all boys are with their fathers, Butters also hated to disappoint him. That's why he always tried to excel, trying _better_ than his best to earn that little compliment that never came. However, Stephen would only put his son down every time, making him feel inadequate, hoping it would somehow encourage him to do better – _That's not good enough Butters, I know you can do better than this_. There was no such thing as – _We know you tried son, it's OK, we know you gave it your best._

(_Not good enough Butters, not good enou_…)

"You remember that time we were stuck with that time-share condo guy? That was horrible! It's another reason why I don't like big cities like Aspen or Denver. Someone is always trying to make money out of you." Linda said.

"But Mom, what's wrong with South Park? Can't you guys stay here?"

The answer never came. As if they didn't hear their son at all. Stephen continued staring at the TV mindlessly while his wife left the living room to do the dishes.

"Butters?" Kenny's voice came through and brought Butter's nostalgic mind back to the present.

"Good morning Kenny!" Butters turned around and beamed, shutting down the flow of painful memories.

"Ah… What time is it?" Kenny groaned and stretched, messaging his own shoulder.

"It's ten."

"Oh, I almost forgot I promised Stan and Kyle we'd meet and talk about the thing."

"What thing?"

"Can I use your bathroom?"

"Sure, but what are you guys gonna talk about?"

"You'll know when we get there."

"O-OK. There's new tooth brush and towels in the top cupboard."

Through the bathroom door came the noise of running water. Butters walked into the bathroom where he found Kenny brushing his teeth.

"Butters, can you call up Stan or Kyle to tell them to choose a place to meet?" Kenny mumbled with foam in his mouth.

"Alright."

Butters rushed back to his room and called Kyle, since his number was his second speed dial, the first being Kenny's, even though he didn't call Kenny much.

Through the phone croaked Stan's voice,

"Hello?"

"Uh, Kyle? Is that you?"

"No, Kyle's in the bathroom taking a shower. This is Stan." Stan sounded like he just woke up.

"Kenny wants me to tell you guys to choose for a place to meet."

"Oh, OK, I'll tell Kyle that, we'll call you back."

"Alright, bye."

Sometimes Butters would wonder what was the secret behind the closeness between Stan and Kyle. _Why can't Kenny treat me as Stan treats Kyle?_

"Do you think your parents are going to be mad when they see me?" Kenny asked as he put on his parka and felt for his car keys in his pocket.

"I don't think they are awake yet."

"Well, that's good, c'mon." Kenny grabbed Butters's hand and started walking out of the room and downstairs. They got out of the house as quietly as possible and the rain sprinkled on their faces as they stepped outside. Kenny started the engine as soon as they got into the car.

"Where did Stan say we gonna go?"

"He said Kyle was in the shower and they'll call us back. I think he just woke up."

"Well then we better call Craig up now and I guess I should choose the place to meet." Kenny said as he backed up his car from the drive way.

Butters didn't like talking to Craig; he's always so intimidating…

"It's OK Butters, I'll call Craig." Kenny said, as if he had read Butter's mind.

_How come I can't read his mind?_

"Hey Craig. Yeah, sorry to call you up this early, ah, I was wondering if you and Tweek wanna hang out with us at, say, City Wok? I'm tired of fast food."

There was a pause as Craig talked back through the phone.

"Alright, man, cool, I'll see you guys there."

None of them said a word after Kenny hung up, and the only sounds heard were the rhythmatic beat of the windshield wipers and raindrops hitting on the surface of the car.

Butters watched in silence as each raindrop on the window grew larger and slide down out of his sight.

"Why did you come to see me last night?"

"Because I missed you."

"Why?"

"I just did."

_Why is Kenny always hiding things from me? _Butters thought bitterly. _I hate that! Why can't he just tell me everything?_ _Or maybe it's me… Maybe I'm just not – _

(_Not good enough, Butters. Not good enough…_)

"Here we are." Kenny pulled over as they arrived at City Wok.

"Do you think I'm not good enough for you?" Butters finally summoned up his courage and asked.

Kenny sighed, cupping Butter's tiny face with his gloved hands, using his thumb to brush away the tears that were welling up from his eyes.

"No, I am the one who's not good enough." Kenny replied, then kissed Butters firmly on his lips.

"I'm sorry, Butters."

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**Trying to reveal the depressed side of Butters. I know the beginning is long and boring, but I actually quite like it. I don't know, I like painful flashbacks XD **

**Next up is some Stan and Kyle, still no smut, but I promise there _will_ be some, I already have their dialogues written!**


	11. Revealed, Or Not

_Calculus notes and textbook, chemistry homework, _Hamlet_, and SAT stuff_… Kyle went through the list of "crap I'm supposed to bring on Monday" and looked at the mirror one last time to make sure the minimum amount of his hair was sticking out of his hat. Yes, he was still very self-conscious about his Jew-fro even though Stan seemed to be completely fine with it and no one at school really make fun of it anymore because it's such as old joke that it's not even funny anymore. When he's finished, he opened his desk drawer to take out the pepper spray and put it into his pocket. Even though students were not supposed to bring any weapons to school in South Park High, the group had come to the decision that it was necessary. None of them had a gun to bring to school, nor did they dare (with the exception of Craig), but pepper spray was suggested by Kenny.

"Pepper sprays ain't gonna work against a vicious serial killer who wants to chop your dick off." Craig said after he took a sip of his ice water.

"Well, we have no choice. We can't bring guns to school." Kenny retorted.

"Mind as well, pepper sprays aren't allowed anyways."

"Craig, do you know how much trouble we can get into if they find guns in our backpacks?" Stan said.

"Blah, blah, blah, my name is Stan Marsh, I'm a boy scout, and I don't break rules." Craig mocked with his monotone voice.

"Stop being a dick, Craig." Stan replied calmly and earned a flip off from the other black haired boy. Stan was in no mood to argue, Kyle could notice that Stan was tired; he seemed so distant today… It was like Stan's mind was somewhere else. Kyle couldn't tell what was exactly wrong with him, it's not the lack of sleep, it's something else, something more –

There was no one in the restaurant except the boys and the owner, Mr. Lu Kim, who was sitting leisurely behind the counter, reading the newspapers.

"What about Swiss knifes? I always bring one of those to school in case I need to open some plastic bags." Craig said casually.

"And what those plastic bags contain, I don't wanna know, but I guess that should work, under the condition that no one finds it." Kenny said, Stan nodded in agreement.

"I don't want to bring anything to school that will get me in trouble, fellas, I'll get grounded!" Butters almost yelled hysterically.

"Well Butters, getting grounded is better than being kidnapped by a killer and getting your penis chopped off." Craig said sarcastically.

"Oh dude, you remember that time we were playing with ninja weapons and we almost got busted?" Cartman said excitedly.

"Oh man, good times man, good times!" Craig chuckled along with Cartman.

"Dude!" Kenny rolled his eyes and looked at Cartman and Craig, indicating his disapproval of them reminding Butters of that horrible experience. The two only snorted in response.

"It's OK Butters," Kyle put a soothing hand on Butters's shoulder as Butters shuddered at the thought of the scenario Craig had suggested and the memory of having a ninja star stuck in his left eye.

Mr. Lu Kim suddenly coughed to clear his throat; he probably could hear the boys' conversation clearly, but chose not to interfere as he had learned through 60 years of experience that it's often better not to get involved in business that does not concern oneself, or so did Kyle thought. However, Mr. Lu Kim's voice almost made everyone jumped as he said,

"I know what you boys are up to." He said in his heavily accented English as he folded up the newspapers he was reading.

The boys waited, not knowing what to say. Mr. Lu Kim shifted in his comfy chair. His graying hair and the wrinkles on his face made him look more ancient than his actual age.

"There's no good in meddling with this," He paused, took a sip from his tea cup and resumed, "There's an old Chinese saying – the more you try to resist, the more vulnerable you are. Panicking before your enemies attack only makes you appear to be afraid." He then looked away and continued. "Thirty years ago, when I first moved here, I know something was wrong with this town. Just a whole bunch of racist hill billies lived here, but later, people moved in and things start to change. I built my restaurant here and keep my nose in my own business – they don't mess with you if you don't mess with them."

"I don't have time for this." Craig attempted to stand up, but Tweek's hand squeezed his arm to urge him to stay.

"This town is alive." Stan froze as Mr. Lu Kim muttered through his barely moving thin lips.

"It can kill." The three simple words came out of Mr. Lu Kim's mouth like dead weights dropping on the floor.

"Bull shit, I don't have time for some boring Chinese philoso–"

"Shut up, Craig." Stan said, and got flipped off by Craig again. "And how do you know?" Stan turned his head towards Mr. Lu Kim and asked politely. But Mr. Lu Kim didn't answer and resumed to reading the newspapers, as if saying _That's all I am going to tell, now leave me alone._

Kyle's reflection on Saturday's event was interrupted by a honk heard from his window, Stan was already outside, waiting for him. Kyle rushed downstairs, kissed his mom good bye and greeted Stan as he opened the car door.

"Good morning Kyle."

"Hey Stan." They never adopted the habit of calling each other "honey", "darling" or "sweetie" as couples often do. Maybe it's because they were so intimate that using these words or not didn't even matter.

"You know, what Mr. Lu Kim said… what he said about South Park, sometimes I feel the same way too." Stan said.

"What do you mean?"

"That this town is alive and it can kill." Stan tried to put it as casual as he could manage to.

"I think it was just a metaphor."

"No Kyle, it's true, sometimes I can feel it."

"Feel what?" Kyle asked, confused.

"I can feel South Park, the spirit of South Park! I mean, as crazy as I sound right now, I-"

"Stan, South Park is a town, it's not a person. It's the killer that is killing people."

"Oh my God." The blood drained from Stan's face as he uttered the words. Kyle looked at Stan's stunned face and turned his head towards the direction Stan was looking at.

What Kyle saw was a line of cars already in front of them and police cars in the very front, blocking the road. The plastic tags were surrounding the giant oak tree in front of the school. But all these chaos was coming from something hanging on the tree – a body, a bloody, naked body. Kyle's eyes bulged, his irises contracted, he immediately felt sick, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from that horrific sight, as if he was petrified by the fear.

There was a sign hanging on the body's neck, attached to two ends of a string that encircled the body's neck. Kyle squinted his eyes to read the bloody words that were written almost in a sing-song rhythm:

"Hi! my name is South Park, I killed this fag, try and catch me : )"

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**Here's an imgae of the sign that I think you should look at:**

xd1 .xa nga .co m/08 be0 362 30d 372 697 269 68/ w21 514 690 8.j pg

(delete all the spaces in between)

**don't worry, nothing is going to claw out from the bowl of your toilet and strangle you to death tonight nor is there any creepy man dressed in a clown suit hiding in your closet, trying to attack you the moment you open the door, neither is any creature with sharp teeth and yellow eyes under your bed, waiting for you to go to sleep soundly and eat you alive ;)**

**Reviews please? how was it? too creepy? yeah, and I think it's not that straight forward now, no, no, not just _simply_ a killer now. **


	12. Broken Promises

**Disclaimer: I do not own South Park. The history presented below is entirely fictional, although some of the contents are based on real facts.**

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Craig returned home that day when the dead body was found hanging on the tree. School was cancelled and Craig decided he wanted to go home and take a nap. No one was at home, South Park Middle was not affected, so Ruby still had to stay at school. Craig turned on the TV and lit a cigarette, the news was talking about the dead body again with live footage. So Craig turned it off immediately and went back to his room.

Craig wasn't really that scared. He remembered that day when Tweek and he saw that man staring at them, but really, he could just well be another creepy looking homeless man trying to ask for some change, right?

_What the_ – Craig had kicked on something under the corner of his bed when he was trying to find his ash tray to put out his cigarette with. He bent down to look under his bed, where he found a paperback book covered in dust – _Exploring Colorado: History, Towns, and Landscapes. What a corny title, when did I buy this thing? _But then he realized that the book was a gift from his grandmother when he turned twelve. Being bored out of his mind, Craig decided he could sit down on his bed and flip through the pages. After all, the book had some really nice pictures, all printed in color. Craig opened the book and saw a note written in cursive on the back of the cover in black ink. If Craig didn't know it was written by his grandma, he would have thought that it was printed, because the note was so neat and the handwriting so uniform that no one would suspect that it was written.

Craig then noticed that a book mark was sticking out from one of the pages, so he turned to that page out of curiosity and saw his own name printed in capital block letters on that page.

"Oh, I remember now." Craig exclaimed softly to himself.

It was the day when Craig's grandma decided to tell Craig a little more about his own name. Craig knew that his grandma had named him, not his parents, because grandma had insisted on naming Craig after her hometown, Craig, a small town located in the Northwestern corner of Colorado, right below the Wyoming border.

"Craig was a small but prosperous town," Grandma started. "I was born and raised there. My family wasn't very rich, but we had a respectable reputation." Then she paused, as if dwelling on her memories.

"How come you never bring me to see the family of your side?" Little Craig asked, opening the book to the page that talks about his grandma's hometown.

"Well, it all started when I first met your grandfather. He was hunting for trophy bucks while I was there feeding those mule deers." She then pointed to one of the pictures in the book, which showed a muscular buck standing behind the golden tall grass. "He was about to shoot one, but then I rose up from behind the grass and he spotted me immediately because I was wearing my red coat. I told him it's a shame that you are killing these poor animals. Then he apologized." Grandma paused again, smiling at her romantic past. "He was a charming, handsome young man, and I fell in love with him immediately. He told me he was from the Tucker family. His great uncle was one of the founders of Craig."

"Did he asked you to marry him?"

"No, he was married, but he didn't tell me."

"What happened?" Craig asked, burning with curiosity.

"Well, we had an affair, but I was oblivious the entire time. When I was pregnant with you father, I told him and thought he would finally propose to me." Craig tensed up as he knew that the story was not going to have a happy ending.

"But of course he didn't. He gave me a lump sum of cash and told me to flee to Hayden. He promised me he would meet me there and we would move to Aspen to start a new live together, but he never came."

"So did he lie to you?" Craig asked urgently.

"I thought he did, but I kept waiting, until one day I met an old friend from Craig and she told me your grandpa had joined the war and he never came back."

"Oh… I am sorry Grandma."

"It's a long time ago Craig, and I'm over it!" Grandma laughed. "But then I couldn't return to Craig anymore because I knew I had become a disgrace to my family and the rest of the town would hate me for carrying a bastard child."

Craig didn't know what to say so he kept silent.

"And I guess that's why your father doesn't know how to be a very good father since he never had one… and I was always so busy with work when he was young." Then she added, "Sorry to bore you such a boring story." Grandma grinned as she closed the book.

"No, I liked it Grandma." Craig said, grinning back.

"Listen Craig, when you grow up, I want you to be as strong, brave, but also as gentle and clever as one of those bucks that runs wild in the golden plains of Craig, and that is why I named you Craig." Grandma said, and kissed her dear grandson on his forehead.

"I will Grandma!" Craig said cheerfully.

The present Craig closed the book with a thump as he recalled this false promise he had made to his now deceased grandma. He sighed, disgusted with the fact that he had now become the opposite of what Grandma wanted him to be.

"I guess the Tucker boys just can't keep their promises to you Grandma." Craig muttered, then he stared at the empty space in front of him, nothing was going through his mind, everything was frozen… Craig didn't remember how long he sat there, but by the time his cell phone rang, the cigarette in between his teeth was burnt out. Craig stared at his phone, Tweek's name was on the screen.

"Hey babe,"

"Craig!" Tweek screamed.

"Calm down, what's going on?"

"Ugh! I am scared!" Tweek had not panicked like this since sixth grade. It wasn't like Craig was not used to it, it's just that it happened so rare in these past few years that it took him by surprise.

"Tweek, I'm coming over!" Craig ran as fast as he could, whispering sweet, calming words to Tweek and panting between each sentence as the icy air penetrated his lungs.

"Why are you breathing so fast? Oh God! They are chasing you! Oh no! No! Craig! No!" Tweek screamed hysterically through the phone as his long-gone paranoia came back.

Craig arrived at Tweek's door step, he reached into his pocket, searching for his keys –

"Craig!" Tweek opened the door, arms flung around Craig's neck. "Oh Jesus, I was so scared!" Tweek mumbled into Craig's shoulder.

"Shh… I'm here now… don't worry." Craig picked the twitching blond up bridal style and carried him into the house, kicking the door closed behind him and locking it up. Tweek continued to twitch like he used to, while Craig put him down on the couch gently.

"What happened, Tweek?" Craig asked softly, running his hand through the blond's hair.

"It's just – I was so scared! I saw the body!" Tweek stopped to swallow. "I-I was on the b-bus, and-and it was so, so close, it was right there! I as-asked the driver to turn around, buh-but she said she couldn't be-because the roads were blocked. I was so scared! I got of-off the bus an-and ran huh-home…" Tweek finally finished with much difficulty, then burst into tears, still clutching tight to Craig's arm.

Craig placed his free hand on Tweek's chest, hoping that the warmth would calm the twitching down.

"It's OK, don't think about it, we are in your house now, everything is safe."

Tweek started to take in lots of air and breathed it out slowly, his breathing gradually returning to normal.

"Do you feel better now?" Craig asked gently.

Tweek nodded.

"Tired?"

Tweek nodded again.

"Wanna go upstairs?"

"But are you going to leave after you put me to sleep?" Tweek asked, his hazel brown eyes pleading. Craig stared right back into those eyes and said,

"No, I will stay with you, Tweek. No matter what happen, I'll stay right beside you."

Craig then reached up to the back of Tweek's elegant long neck, pressing him gently closer to himself and kissed those trembling lips. Tweek was so soft, so delicate, so in need of someone to protect him… then he pulled away and added,

"I promise."

_And I'll be damned if I break it this time._

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**How was it? Did the part about Craig's grandma bore you? More reviews, faster update : )**

**Yes, I did some research and found out that Craig and Tucker were the founders of this town, Craig, in Colorado. Their full names are William H. Tucker and Rev. William Bayard Craig. They founded Craig in 1889. I thought it might be an actual twist that Parker and Stone put there when they named Craig. I even added that on Craig's page on the South Park Fanon Wikia. However, anything I wrote about the Tucker family is entirely fictional.**


	13. Monster

It was the first day of fifth grade's Christmas break, Tweek barely woke up and was lazily lying under all the cozy covers. There's nothing better than turning the heat up in your house and taking a big nap while the rest of the world are freezing their asses off outside. Tweek had cut down on caffeine ever since Craig had threatened not to be friends with him if he keeps drinking too much coffee. Sure, he still had one in the morning every day, but not using it as his only source of water anymore. Plus, Craig would buy him a can of coke every now and then with the money he earned from selling those unknown substance inside a Ziplock bag to upperclassman. Eventually, his twitching and paranoia became less serious and Tweek could fall asleep every night after checking his closet and under his bed for underpants gnomes, monsters, and aliens. Then he could call Craig up to make sure Craig would do the same so Tweek could ensure his best friend's safety.

The phone on Tweek's night table rang unexpectedly. Who could be calling this early Hopefully not the FBIs. ?

"Hello?"

"Hey Tweek, we are going to skate at Stark's Pond, get ready." Craig ordered, not even bothering to ask if Tweek wanted to come.

"Huh? B-but I don't want to go."

"You have to come, you can't just hide in your room all day. We are kids, we are supposed to go outside and play."

"But what if the ice on the pond is not thick enough? I will fall into the water and drown."

"No dumbass, everyone's going, we'll save you. I can swim, I'll save you."

"But what if we catch a cold and die afterwards?"

"People don't die from colds."

"It still happens."

"I don't care, you are coming, so get dressed, I'll be at your house in five minutes."

"No-" Craig already hung up.

"Aw, man…" Tweek didn't like taking risks, but if Craig is going to be there, then everything should be OK right? So he reluctantly got out of bed, brushed his teeth, then looked for his pair of skates in the closet. They were still very much intact, he had only used them once, that was last year when Craig made him learn how to skate. Tweek removed the foam from the blades carefully and put them back into the box. Then he looked for one of those brown eco-friendly bags that his parents used at their shop. He gathered everything he needed and put them into the bag – his thermos, the skate shoes, and his wallet, in case the group decides to go eat afterwards.

"Dude, you are still in your pajamas." Craig opened Tweek's bedroom door and marched in without knocking. Tweek knew he should at least act like he's mad, but somehow he forgot.

"Oh…"

"C'mon, I'll help you, Clyde and Token are already waiting outside." Craig said as he helped Tweek to button up his shirt correctly.

After a few minutes, Craig took Tweek's hand and dragged him outside. How does Craig keep his hands so warm all the time?

"That sure took you two long enough." Clyde and Token snickered at the sight of their innocent little Tweekers holding onto their leader's hand.

"No gay jokes." Craig ordered and flipped them off.

"Aye, aye, Captain!" Clyde and Token ceased their snickers, but Token still slipped one out as Clyde elbowed him.

It wasn't a long walk from Tweek's house, the four soon arrived at Stark's Pond, where Stan, Kyle, Kenny, Cartman, and Butters were already on the ice.

"Wee –!" Kenny squealed as he skillfully glided across the center of the pond.

"Hey fellas!" Butters greeted them. "This sure is fun!" then he glided away after Kenny.

"Tweek, do you still remember how to skate?" Craig asked as they put on their skates.

"A little."

"Where's your gloves? Did you bring your gloves?"

"I forgot." As soon as Tweek replied, Clyde cut in,

"Oh no Tweek, you know if you fall, your hands are gonna touch the ice, and if you don't have gloves, they'll stick on the ice, and if you try to pull away, you'll tear off your skin."

"Gah! Really? That's too dangerous! I don't wanna skate anymore!"

"Quit it Clyde. No Tweek, that's not true. Plus, I am giving you _my_ gloves." Craig took off his gloves and put Tweek's hand into them. Craig's warmth was still lingering inside the gloves, it made Tweek feel safe.

"Aw…" Clyde and Token said simultaneously. "That's so sweet!" Clyde added in a sarcastic high-pitched tone.

"Shut up!" Craig flipped them off again but that didn't stop the two from snickering. When Craig was ready to throw a punch at them, they already got on their feet and skated away.

"You know if you stop being so nice to me, they'll stop making fun of us." Tweek said.

"No. I'm your friend, and I'm gonna keep taking care of you." Craig said passively as he offered his ungloved hand to Tweek and helped him to get on his feet. Then he led Tweek onto the ice. Tweek hang on to Craig firmly, scared that he was going to fall and get paralyzed for the rest of his life.

"C'mon Tweek, you can do it!" Craig encouraged.

"No! Don't let go yet!"

Craig laughed, swirling Tweek around just like one of those figure skater on Winter Olympics, causing Tweek to squeal. Behind them, Tweek could hear Kenny exclaiming through his hoodie, "Aw, look at them, they're so cute together! We should do that too Butters!"

"Huh?" Butter said as he attempted to fix his Hello Kitty scarf.

But Tweek didn't hear the rest of the conversation as Craig dragged him away.

"Look at Craig, I've never seen him laugh like that." Stan said to Kyle.

"Yeah. He must really like Tweek." Kyle replied.

"What about us?" Stan looked at Kyle and smirked.

Kyle looked away to the snow on the ground, his face grew redder than his hair. "We-we are good friends, we-we are super best friends…"

"Hey guys! Wanna play hockey?" Stan suddenly called out to everyone, leaving Kyle to blush and mumble to himself.

"Sure!" Token called back.

The boys soon gathered around on the side as Kyle handed out the hockey sticks he and Stan had brought.

"Wait, we are odds." Stan said.

"I'll be the referee!" Butters said cheerfully.

"Oh shit, I forgot my puck!" Kyle said as he poured out everything in his bag.

"Aw! Stupid Jew!"

"Don't worry, we can use this cookie I found in Cartman's bag." Kenny said comically as he handed the cookie to Butters.

"Hey! That's my cookie!"

"Alright Cartman, my mom will bake us as much cookies as you want when we get home. Now don't eat this cookie because you are going to be the goalie. Now, everyone, to your positions!" Stan commanded his team with the same kind of charismatic leadership he would use to command his football team when he becomes the South Park High football team captain.

When Stan was planning his strategy with his team, the other gang gathered around Craig.

"Who's going to be the goalie?" Clyde asked.

"I wanna be the goalie." Token volunteered.

"Alright then. Token you'll be the goalie." Then he turned to Tweek and said, "Are you sure you wanna do this? We can ask Butters to be on our team if you don't want to play."

"Yeah, I think I will be fine." Tweek didn't want the other guys to call him a pussy, so he insisted with a bit of doubt.

"Alright, you'll be the defense, me and Clyde will be the offense."

"Are you guys ready yet?" Stan shouted across the ice.

"Yeah! Bring it on!" Craig yelled back with his bad-boy tone as he rushed to the center and left Tweek behind.

"Alright fellas, ready, set," Butters paused for the suspense and finally said, "GO!"

Craig took the cookie and ran past Stan, then he passed it to Clyde, who skillfully swirled around the defensing Kyle, then he passes the cookie back to Craig, who went for the goal. But Cartman's enormous body was in the way and the cookie bounced back. Kenny took his chance and passed the cookie to Stan in the middle.

"Defense Tweek!" Craig called out behind Stan, who was running on the ice madly like he was on fire. Craig kept close to Stan's tail and tried to steal back the cookie.

"Go Stan! Go!" Kyle cheered from behind.

"Gah! This is too much pressure!" Tweek fumbled and fell, his face hit the surface of the ice. It didn't hurt much since his cheeks were already numb. _Oh man, now they are really going to call me a pussy…_ Tweek tried to rise up, but then a huge dark figure swam pass under the ice and caught his attention. _What was that? _Tweek wondered. _Could it be a fish? It must be a big one…_

But no, it wasn't a fish.

Because a fish doesn't have big sharp teeth and it can't _smile_.

The creature resurfaced again and Tweek could see its face through the partly translucent ice. The creature was now _right under_ the spot where Tweek was kneeling on all fours, its face facing upward.

"Hey Tweekers." The creature said alluringly, even though it didn't open its mouth, Tweek could hear its voice in his head. It wasn't just one voice, it sounded like a whole group of people were speaking simultaneously.

"You think I should eat your lit' friends one by one? Which one should I start with first? You? Or Craig? What daya say?" The creature said to Tweek as its smile widened and its yellow reptilian eyes grew rounder and the irises contracted into a thin, red line. _Oh God, what do I do? What do I do? It wants to eat us all!_ Tweek heard his own voice scream in his head, but then it faded away with confusion and fear and panic. He couldn't move, he couldn't scream, he almost forgot how to breathe.

"Nah… I'll probably throw up bad if I have one of ya lit' fags for dinner." It continued.

Tweek wanted to scream, but he still couldn't. He felt like a lump was stuck in his throat, it hurt, as if it was some kind of corrosive acid…

"Ya know Tweekers, seein lit' boys wantin' to fuck each other makes me really sick. It's wrong and those lit' fags need to go to Hell where they belong." The creature mocked in a sarcastic teacher tone, which reminded Tweek of their teacher, Mr. Garrison.

"Don't think I don't know. I'm always watchin'."

_Run, Tweek, run! Scream! Do something! I'm gonna die…._

"_You_ are goin' to Hell, Tweek." It said again.

"_Hell_, where you belong." The voices echoed in his head. Tweek could even feel invisible hands scratching, clawing on his skin, dragging him down…

(_Down…_)

"AAHHH!" Tweek screamed and opened his eyes.

He was back in his room, on his bed again.

It was the dream again.

Tweek's heart was pounding fast, but it felt like as if nothing was in his chest, as if it was empty and the sound of his heart pumping was just an illusion.

"Tweek?" Craig was sitting next to his bed, holding his hand.

"I had that dream again." It just become more real each time… Sometimes, Tweek doubt what he saw that day was really there or was it just all a projection of his paranoia. He wished it's the latter.

Tweek calmed down a little, taking a sip of water with the help of Craig.

"I think I know what is killing out there, It's the-"

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Yes yes, evil me, didn't let him finish. Maybe Tweek suddenly has a heart attack or the "thing" got him somehow. Who knows, need to wait for the next chapter. Review please=]

Sorry for the hold up... Really really sorry, but I needed to take a break from this story, so I wrote two other one-shots, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes and I Wanna Hold Your Hand, the first one is Creek and the latter is Style, they are really fluffy fics, which makes me feel happier after writing this chapter.

Oh yeah, tell me which character you want me to kill and I may consider killing them off first, and y'all really hate Craig I gotta say. C'mon, someone show some sympathy for the poor guy.


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